


THE MAKING OF A MAN

by Anne_Fairchild



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Demisexuality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Virginity, Physical hurt/comfort, Questioning Sexual Orientation, Romance, Romantic Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild
Summary: Arthur Parker finds himself fascinated with Sidney’s friend Crowe. Crowe has also noticed Arthur. What might it mean? Sidney has suspicions about his brother’s potential proclivities based on a past event. There is far more to both men than is visible to the casual observer. Angst abounds.
Relationships: Arthur Parker/Mr. Crowe, Arthur/Crowe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	THE MAKING OF A MAN

Mr Arthur Parker was, as ever, an observer rather than a participant. The youngest in the family, he was certainly an adult at the age of five and twenty. Yet it was accurate to say that his sisters at least, who raised him after their mother died, would always regard him as a child. Tom, his eldest brother, loved and indulged him as the head of the family would, but never really saw him, or took notice of his thoughts or feelings, and certainly not his ideas. He did have ideas, and was sad when they were invariably disregarded. It made him feel of no value.

Sidney was different. Different first of all in that he was so unlike the rest of them with his brooding nature and restless spirit, but different too because Sidney both talked to him and _listened_ to him. Sidney paid attention to him as a person, and encouraged him to read, to learn, and to dream. Sadly, Sidney had left him for long years in the West Indies. He used to imagine himself in that faraway place with his brother, sharing adventures.

By the time Sidney returned, Arthur had been too long under the well-meaning but misplaced solicitude of his sisters and the benign neglect of Tom. He was too burdened with all he could _not_ do, rather than still alive and encouraged in possibilities. Sidney was different, too. Closed within himself, unhappy and largely uncommunicative now. It hurt to see him this way, a shadow of the brother he remembered. They did still have talks and Arthur believed that Sidney enjoyed the talks as much as he did, but the opportunities to see his brother were too infrequent. He missed being thought of as a person.

Arthur loved his sisters, but he had begun to chafe under their benevolent domination. Not enough to be cruel in his rejection - it wasn’t in him to be cruel - but enough that the stomach distress Diana was always worrying about began to occur in truth. If he would not speak up, his body would do it for him, making matters worse of course. There had begun a restlessness in him that was growing. It had begun with the arrival of Miss Heywood, and Sidney’s visits with his London friends. There were changes in Sanditon and changes in his family, but there was no expectation of or allowance for change in him. He must remain as he had always been, while his brothers left him behind in the world.

Sidney had for some time kept somewhat away from the family, but with his coming to Sanditon more frequently now, Arthur found himself observing those whom Sidney called friends and associates, wondering what they gave him that his family did not. In particular, Lord Babington and the somewhat aptly named Mr Crowe.

The former was a charming gentleman, polite, a well turned out fine figure, kind and respectful to all. It was obvious that he was a man who would have many friends. He probably did his best to cheer Sidney, to bring him out of his melancholy moods.

In contrast, Mr Crowe was slightly older than the other two, nearly Tom’s age, tall and thin. Though his clothes were expensive they were not particularly chosen or worn with care, and he gave the appearance of a man disinterested in the impression he made on those around him. His manner and speech were caustic, and scornful of nearly everything and everyone when he was sober enough to express himself, but women seemed to bear the brunt of his unkindness.

It would be easy to think that Crowe echoed Sidney’s darker nature and allowed him to feel at home in it, but that didn’t explain the solicitousness and patience both Sidney and Lord Babington afforded the man. They ignored his insults of them and others, excused his behavior and compensated for it, and generally seemed often to be looking after him, all for reasons Arthur could not discern. There was something about him they liked and valued enough to tolerate his bad behaviour.

He was a drinker, a gambler and a general rake, but on the one occasion that Arthur and Tom had accompanied the others on a gentleman’s evening, though he gambled he did not do it excessively or dangerously. He had the control to stop when he chose. His appetite for women - Arthur did not term such females ladies - was also more selective on observation than on first impression, and he did not seem to spend more than the minimum amount of time required with them. Liquor was the one vice he appeared to have little control over. Sidney and Babington were calmly tolerant of it, and Arthur also recognized that one or the other of them sometimes talked him out of consuming still more.

His eyes, when he did not lock everyone out, were sad and often far away. There had been a time or two, though, when Arthur realized the man’s gaze was on him, penetrating and thoughtful. He couldn’t imagine why Sidney’s friend would notice him at all, except with scorn. He was aware that he did not cut much of a figure and was not the sort of man most would take any notice of. Another thing which puzzled him was why he himself had taken any notice, why it should matter to him, or why he felt regret at not feeling more presentable. This Crowe was nothing to him.

There were certain events at the regatta, however, which greatly surprised Arthur. There were to have been fireworks on the beach just as the sun was setting. Somehow a few older boys had gained access to the shamefully ill-guarded explosives and in doing so, a small rocket went off. Beside the shock of the boy’s injury, there had been real danger of flame and sparks igniting the rest. It was only the very quick action of Mr Crowe both with regard to the boy and the fireworks that avoided disaster.

He shouted to Sidney and Babington to look after the boy and to keep him from bleeding to death before a doctor could be found, then at considerable danger to himself he made sure all fire was well extinguished before he joined his friends. During this time Arthur observed quickness of mind, skill and knowledge, and no sign of inebriation. He was further intrigued by this puzzle, and disconcerted that it occupied his mind at all.

**

If Arthur was the observer and Tom the Parker brother who saw nothing at all but his own interests, Sidney was somewhere in between. He did not usually venture to weigh in on the affairs of others, yet there were times when he did - when those others were close to him, or meant something to him.

Sidney had guessed at the character of his brother ever since he’d taken Arthur to London with him several years ago for the purpose of broadening his education in society, not only introducing him to the company of suitable young women, but to the delights of a better class bawdy house. Arthur had been either awkward around the ladies, or more often, polite but disinterested. Their visit to the bawdy house had likewise not been a success. The experienced young whore ‘could not coax his member to stiffen’ no matter what skills she used. Arthur had not been aroused by the pretty girl at all.

Sidney had seen something of the world, both in London and on his travels. He knew that there were men who were drawn not to women but to other men. He felt no particular judgment of them. He believed that what happened between willing adults was no one’s business but theirs. Certainly he kept any physical relationships he’d ever had with women entirely to himself. When he’d met Lord Babington and Crowe, he’d discerned that Babington, like himself, was much a man of the world and was not of a condemnatory disposition either. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that Crowe was one who sought the company of other men by preference, whether he consorted with bawds or not. Babington had known him for some while and confided information about him and his past. The three had formed an unlikely friendship that had proven to be resilient.

One eye often on Crowe when they were together, Sidney was aware of his friend’s interest in his brother, as he was aware of Arthur’s interest in Crowe. The question was what he should do about it, if anything. He had resolved to wait until one of them inquired about the other.

The regatta precipitated this. To his discomfort, on different occasions he spoke of one to the other. He had no desire to play matchmaker, and Crowe was troubled enough in his own life that he might spell disaster for the unsophisticated Arthur. Yet if Arthur were to have any chance at understanding himself, of growing beyond living with Diana for the rest of his life, he had to be made aware enough to make his own decisions.

Arthur asked him a question or two about Crowe, at which time Sidney suggested a drive along the cliff tops, just the two of them. He regarded his brother quite seriously, and Arthur agreed, though Sidney’s intensity made him nervous.

When they stopped the cart they were quite alone and could see anyone who might approach them; no one could disturb their counsel.

Sidney drew a deep breath.

“Arthur - have I not always treated you fairly, and respected your thoughts and opinions? If I have not said so, I do value your thoughts.”

“You are the only one who does, brother. It has always made me feel that someone, at least, sees me.”

“I have always seen you - but I have perhaps seen more than you knew.”

“Sidney?”

“If I speak to you openly and honestly about Crowe and what I know of him, I must know exactly where your mind - and heart - lie in this matter. Do you swear to be honest with me - completely honest?”

Arthur flushed, as he began to understand that his brother had the heart of the matter already, even if he himself didn’t entirely.

“I will not speak unless I have that assurance.”

“I - yes, Sidney. I will be as honest as I know myself, though I think I do not know all of myself,” Arthur answered awkwardly, beginning to perspire.

“Fair enough,” Sidney acknowledged. “Do you remember when I came back from Antigua, and you and I went to London together?”

“Yes.”

“What I remember is that you did not do very well in the company of young women - of any sort. You had no interest in the suitable young women in whose company you spent time, and the bawds didn’t interest you either - nor could they excite you to perform as a man. How did you feel about all of that?” Sidney asked.

“I was..uncomfortable. I didn’t dislike them, they just made me..a little frightened. And when you took me to the bawdy house, I know I didn’t feel as I ought to, and I wondered what was wrong with me. I didn’t feel the sorts of feelings I supposed I should have,” Arthur revealed softly.

“But when you look at Crowe, you do.”

Arthur stiffened, and looked horrified.

“Brother, if you do not answer me, truthfully, this conversation is ended, my friends and I leave Sanditon tomorrow, and I will not bring Crowe back with me.”

Arthur looked down at his hands.

“I’m not sure what I feel, I only know that I do, and I never have had such feelings before. I cannot be sure what it is, if I have no experience of it.”

“What prompted your queries about Crowe?”

“He..interests me. I wonder about him..about who or what he may be, that you and Lord Babington are such good friends to him, and so loyal. I think he must be more than he appears. He is often melancholic and seems unhappy, and for some reason his sadness affects me, though I can’t put a name to it. I’m sorry.”

“Does he stir other feelings in you as well? The kind of feelings you knew you were supposed to have for the young ladies, or the bawds?”

“Sidney!”

“Arthur.”

“That would be unnatural.”

“Not so unnatural as you imagine.”

“I..yes - maybe. I am drawn to him, as a compulsion I cannot stop, and it’s becoming stronger each time I see him.”

“Do you imagine touching him - or him touching you?”

“Since the regatta.” Arthur flushed. “Not with an object of..of - but just to touch him, comfort him.”

“If he were to touch you - and you know the kind of touch I mean - do you think it would upset you - disgust you?”

Arthur closed his eyes. “No.” He wasn’t aware there was a faint smile on his face.

Sidney let out a breath. Until he’d met Crowe, hidden away with Diana and with no room to breathe on his own, Arthur had been blind in this. His awakening must be handled with care.

“It’s all right, brother. I’ll help you if I can. I must speak to him, before I can tell you any more. Understand, he will not know what I tell you of him, and you will not know what I tell him of you.”

“But what if he is disgusted by the idea - he must be, I think,” Arthur protested. Sidney shook his head with a smile.

“You have seen him regarding you. I have seen it. Do you imagine I would be having such a conversation with you if I did not think he would be as open to knowing you better as you are to knowing him? I must do my best to assure that neither my brother nor my good friend come to harm, and also that neither would be ruined by such an acquaintance. You may not think it, but he is in a general state more fragile than yours. It’s him I fear for more than you, if you don’t come to know yourself in this. I cannot take a gamble with his life any more than I would with yours.

“He is experienced in these matters, and you are not. I’m not certain it would be good for either of you, and it ought to be for both of you. I don’t want you frightened or hurt, and I don’t think I could bear to see him disappointed again. I fear it would kill him.”

“Sidney?”

“We’ll talk of this again, Arthur, but I must speak with my friend first.”

**

“He has not known his nature. He is uncomfortable, and afraid, yet curious and yearning for he knows not what, exactly. He will I think be timid, and put off by aggression. I don’t know if it is your nature to move slowly, kindly, with another. He needs to understand himself. I don’t know if you’re willing to deal with that.”

Crowe’s smile was gentle, and so sad it made Sidney shiver a little.

“Sidney, I have introduced and instructed several such young men as to their nature in my time. It has always been a pleasure - for both of us. But they do not stay. What matter, you might say - men of such disposition by their nature are promiscuous and seek only carnal gratification, nothing more. That is what the world thinks, I know, but it isn’t true for all of us. I have wanted someone to stay for so long that I’ve given up hoping. It pains me too much.”

Knowing something of his past, Sidney ached for his friend.

“I couldn’t presume to guarantee anything as to a friendship or connection, but I do know one thing - Arthur is as kind and caring a man as you are, and he _is_ a man, though no one in the family regards him as such. I would see him away from their well-meaning yet stifling care,” he admitted.

Crowe nodded.

“You may leave him in my care then, if he is agreeable.”

**

With Sidney observing, and working behind the scenes to absent Arthur from the family, most particularly the clinging Diana, Arthur Parker and Crowe entered into a closer acquaintanceship in Sanditon. They dined, gambled a little, and conversed a great deal.

Crowe found the young Mr Parker highly intelligent, with more wit and humour than he would have credited him with, once he was away from his family. He was as good-natured as Crowe was cynical, fair in his dealings, even-tempered - and quite naïve in many ways. There was an earnestness about him, a simple directness, that attracted Crowe to Arthur Parker. He was not a man of secrets or subterfuge, he spoke as he observed.

The older man was still a puzzle to Arthur. The piercing blue eyes missed nothing, though that was often masked deliberately Arthur decided, or behind a veil of semi-drunkenness. His wit was dry and sharp, and often unkind. Though he knew scarcely anything about Crowe yet, Arthur felt that his abrasive, unpleasant and drunken presentation was a sympton, not a disease. He answered the shy, awkward questions Arthur put to him with serious attention and did not laugh at him or ridicule him, however he regarded others. He gave honest, thorough and thoughtful replies.

He unobtrusively informed and guided Arthur so that he began to feel more comfortable in himself, regardless of their relationship. He was, Arthur realized, a gentle and quiet man masquerading as a lascivious bon vivant. He didn’t understand why if Crowe preferred men for his relations, he made such a show of indiscriminately bedding women. Hesitantly, one afternoon in his rooms at the hotel, Arthur asked him about it.

“Ah. An astute observation, Mr Parker. It has always been expected that I would marry because I ought to produce an heir to the family fortune. Whatever my preference, I grew up with that knowledge. While I do not much enjoy the act with women, neither do I feel so strongly repulsed that I cannot and will not perform with them. Unlike you, who I think could not imagine coupling with a female?” Crowe raised his tone in a gentle question. “We are not all the same, there are differences between us.”

Arthur understood that by ‘us’ he did not mean himself and Arthur, but men who sought other men, generally.

“There is another reason of course, and it’s one you need always have uppermost in your mind. Relations between men are against the laws of God and man. I have lived my life knowing I might be thrown in prison, flogged, pilloried or even put to death for any such actions I take. It is as true for the highest peer as it is for the lowest beggar, Arthur. It can never be forgotten, even for a moment. When in my cups I can forget, and it is very dangerous to forget. The women help to blind both public perception and the law when danger is present. It has served me thus far, though it is not guaranteed to save me forever, which I must consider.” Crowe looked directly at Arthur when he said the last, with a slight smile on his lips.

Before Mr Crowe had come to Sanditon with Sidney, Arthur rarely if ever thought of what he’d until recently simply considered marital relations. He knew he had little to no attraction to or eagerness for females, though he’d never pondered why. He did believe Sidney had the right of things. He definitely was attracted to Crowe, but while he was to a point curious about what might occur physically between them, he was not strongly driven to it. In a way he did not understand, what desire he felt was bound up in the man himself.

“Would you wish to travel to London with me?”

“I don’t know how it would be possible. My sister-“

“If it were possible, would you wish to go?”

“Yes. I would.” Arthur’s mouth was dry. However much he hadn’t figured out yet, he would not let such an opportunity go by. If he did, he would indeed never know.

“Don’t worry. Sidney has told me he’ll sort it out. We shall go to London to further your education.”

They had been sitting facing each other, cramped in the small room such that their knees were almost touching. Now Crowe leaned forward slowly and pressed his lips to Arthur’s, touching his face lightly.

It was nice. It was quite nice, in fact. Arthur’s heart sped up. When he didn’t pull away there was another kiss, and another, each one a little longer and a little firmer, and Arthur found he would be happy to receive yet more. Still, he remained contentedly passive. It was all new and unaccustomed and he had never been a bold man.

“Don’t be afraid,” Crowe whispered, touching his face, his hair.

“I am afraid,” he answered, “but not of you - and not so much as I was.”

**

Arthur didn’t ask how Sidney had accomplished his release from Diana and Susan, and from Tom and Mary as well. He couldn’t quite believe he was in a carriage on his way to the Parker townhouse in London, which Sidney occupied much of the time by himself. Crowe had gone on ahead, both to carry out some business in Town and to leave the brothers alone so that Sidney could speak further to Arthur, in part relating what he wouldn’t and couldn’t say himself.

“You want to know of my friend’s life, his past. Some, I know from James Babington, some James has learned from others, and a little Crowe has confided to us. He does not wish to speak of himself, though he’s used to others speaking about him - gossip, scorn and misinformation, he has endured much of it.

“His father was a merchant, like ours. The family money has been made in the China trade, mostly tea. The firm does very well still, and that’s in no small part due to his business instincts, which are as sound as yours.” Sidney smiled at his brother. “He had an older brother who was in charge after their father died. Crowe had always had a fascination with the East, and he yearned to go there, but his father and brother had kept him out of the business. He realized later it was because of his nature, which was apparent somewhat early in his life.

“He asked his father to purchase him a commission in an army regiment that was to see service in India aiding the East India Company in quelling a war between two Indian factions seeking control over the other’s territory. His father agreed, likely thinking the family was well rid of him and hoping he would not return.

“He arrived in India a very raw soldier and a sensitive young man who witnessed and experienced a great many terrible events - beheadings, burnings, rape, the slaughter of innocents on a large scale, and other nameless horrors.

“Man’s unkindness to man affected him greatly, moreso in a way because he’d already been a victim of it himself. He became very ill with a fever and it was thought he would die. When he did not, he resigned his commission and returned to England. In some ways his health has suffered ever since. His body is usually strong enough, but it need not take much to send him into a fever or to take to his bed either - and his emotional state is often unstable and melancholic. It’s for this reason he drinks so heavily, beds whores and also carouses in a different sort of house, which could get him thrown into prison to rot, or even get him hanged.

“While he was in India his father died, and it was very few years later that his brother also died, and the family living became his. He determined to make it more successful than ever, to prove his family wrong, and he has succeeded. But it is an empty life for him. He’s restless and unhappy. He’s been a good, kind friend to both of us, Jamie and me, loyal and generous to a fault, and we do our best to look out for him, but at some point it won’t be enough. He needs someone to look after him, to stay with him not because he pays their debts or provides fine food and wine, parties and a good time between the sheets, but because they _care_ for him.

“Many men in his situation would not care and would be content with paid for, superficial companionship, but Crowe is not one of them. But I don’t want you to feel you must do that for him, be that for him, because of me or out of pity. I would never want that and neither would he,” Sidney spoke earnestly.

“He knows he can buy the company and the concern, yet he still hopes against hope that he’ll find a happiness he doesn’t need to purchase. I just thought..perhaps..but I may be wrong,” he shook his head self-deprecatingly, “and often have been, so you must do as your heart and your conscience - and I suppose your body as well, tells you. I can offer you no more advice than that. I am, as many will tell you, not the wisest of men.” Sidney sat back with a melancholy sigh.

“You are a good man and the best of brothers, even when neither Tom nor I deserve it,” Arthur assured him, patting his knee. “You also care deeply, but don’t want anyone to know. Yet we know your feelings for Miss Heywood, Mary and I, and hope for your happiness. Poor Mary. If I were ever to marry, which would be highly unlikely, it would be to a woman like her. She is kind and fair and marvelous, and Tom does not deserve her.”

Sidney was slightly shocked at his brother’s words. They rarely spoke of Tom between them and when they did it was impersonal. There appeared to be much his younger brother saw and absorbed that no one gave him credit for.

“No,” he agreed cautiously, “I don’t believe he does deserve her. Poor Mary indeed. I feel disloyal speaking of him this way, but he too has his faults, Arthur. It comforts me a little to know that you see them as well,” he admitted. “Especially as those faults begin to pull at the fabric of our entire family.”

“If I am in any way small comfort to you, brother, I’m glad. You have always considered me, when no one else has. The last one, the youngest. The silliest. The most useless and self-indulgent. I never have wanted to be any of those things. But when you left for Antigua and I was remanded to Tom and the girls I was forgotten on the one end and treated like a child’s doll on the other. Unlike you, I did not have the strength of character to break free of it,” Arthur frowned.

“I refuse to believe you are a weak man. You have not yet encountered anything - or anyone - you feel strongly enough about to fight for. When the time comes, I have no doubt that you will, Arthur. There’s a stubborn streak in you,” Sidney assured him with a smile.

The remainder of their journey passed in comfortable silence, each lost in their own very different thoughts. It was dusk when they reach the Parker residence in Town. Their luggage was brought inside and they took the time to wash, rest a little, and then dress for a night on the town. Crowe was to pick them up in his own carriage.

In his own home, run by as few live-in servants as possible, Jasper Crowe dressed nervously, continually dissatisfied by his appearance in the mirror. He was too thin, and looked too haggard and dissipated to be attractive to anyone any more, especially the sparkling young officers who had been his usual companions.

Sidney Parker’s little brother should not matter a whit, which was why it was so annoying that he somehow did matter. Taken on as a favor to his friend was what he’d told himself. A very naïve young man tending to hypochondria, his paleness and slight chubbiness a distinct opposite to the tanned, muscular bodies normally occupying his bed. Ah, his bed. Another oddity that, for Arthur Parker wouldn’t know what to do in bed with a man or a woman, and as much as admitted it to him, a relative stranger. Nor was he even very keen so far to do anything about it.

It was that strange honesty, and the intensity with which Parker regarded him which was the hook, he supposed, if there was one. Crowe had the feeling that Arthur saw _him_ when the young man looked at him - could see into his very soul, and rather than finding it wanting, accepted it - accepted him. The man he truly was, the one he no longer let anyone see. The man he’d hidden as deeply as he knew how. Arthur Parker appeared to have found that man, and Jasper was terrified at what it might mean. Could his heart ever truly open again? He already knew the answer, and it frightened him even more.

It was, all told, a pleasant evening. Invigorating to be back in London, good to be out and about with a friend he trusted. He was grateful for Sidney’s presence and he supposed Arthur was too. The only person missing was James Babington, still in Sanditon hoping for some kind word from Miss Denham. Perhaps, Crowe reflected, he might be misjudging her as others misjudged him. Everyone kept their hearts secret in different ways. Maybe hers had been bruised or abused too. Jamie was certainly intent on winning her. For his sake, Crowe hoped she would be worth his love if she were ever caught.

They said good night in the wee hours of the morning. Tomorrow Sidney would attend to some business and then travel back to Sanditon, and Arthur’s London adventure would begin.

**

There were sights to see, parties, salons and soirees to attend and people to be introduced to. There were horses to ride, and walks to be taken. Weekend hunts and shooting. He was intent on pleasing Crowe and fitting in with his friends. This combined with the absence of his sisters to warn him against any and all exertions and the fact that dining at will was no longer on the calender, forced him to notice that after nearly a month in Town his clothes were now too large. Crowe happily took him to his own tailors and supervised the making of some new ones.

There were visits to plays and music halls, and to balls, where Arthur learned how to behave with his partners, neither fearing nor disliking them but variously pleasantly tolerating them or even perhaps enjoying them. He gained a confidence that he was not just to be endured or dismissed, but was someone whose company others enjoyed.

He realized he was falling in love with Crowe. That had to be it, there was no other logical explanation. He was unhappy and restless on his own, as if something was missing, waiting only to be with Crowe again. He felt more alive in his company than he ever remembered feeling in his life. Being with him, speaking or in silence, was what mattered.

Where he had not experienced any urges before, he had begun to. The first time things had gone beyond kissing, they were at Crowe’s house, having come in very late. He had explained that his servants had orders not to wait up for him past midnight, but to go to their own beds and leave him to fend for himself. So there was no one about to see or hear them quietly ascend the stairs and slip into Crowe’s room.

There was kissing of course, and it had for some time gone beyond their first kisses in Sanditon. Arthur was simply in heaven at such attentions from Crowe. As the kisses grew ever deeper and longer, Crowe’s hands began to roam. He was in control of himself, but he had been drinking a bit more freely than he’d become accustomed to when he was with Arthur. When he was with Arthur he didn’t _need_ to drink too much in order to forget; he wanted to remember every second.

The hands ultimately centered over Arthur’s groin, pressing somewhat firmly, massaging with an intent they both acknowledged as Arthur began to stiffen.

“My dear Arthur, do you wish more than kisses tonight?” Crowe held his breath.

“I do. But-“

“But?” Crowe’s chest physically hurt.

“I feel so stupid, not to know about such things. I’m afraid I’ll put you off, do something, say something foolish or unkind or wrong without meaning to. And I don’t know how to bring you pleasure. I so want to do that.”

There was a look in Arthur’s eyes that almost destroyed Crowe. They were so full of emotion that he didn’t know if he could manage without losing his composure utterly.

“It isn’t your fault, my dear. You cannot know what you’ve had no opportunity to learn. For now, your pleasure is my pleasure. Let me do this for you and you will make me happy, truly. This will please me. All right?”

“Yesss.” There was such yearning in that single word.

Crowe slowly began to unbutton his waistcoat and then slipped it off, carefully unknotting his neckcloth and unwinding it, stopping more than once to kiss him reassuringly. Boots came next, and breeches. By this time, Arthur was trembling with each new touch, each deliberate caress, but he managed to still his soon-to-be-lover’s hands and indicate that he intended to peel away Crowe’s layers as he had been revealed.

Crowe closed his eyes and steeled himself. He was no physical specimen to admire, and had not been since India. Before he could stop him, Arthur had slipped his shirt off over his head.

Arthur swallowed hard, his heart contracting in love and pity. Crowe’s body was criss-crossed with scars, front and back. Some would be wounds obtained fighting in India, some due to his private life, and some Arthur would never guess or know. They brought home to him Sidney’s words on the journey to London. Most of this man’s life he had suffered in one way or another.

“Oh, Jasper,” he breathed, brushing his fingers over the scars.

Crowe groaned. Arthur knew his Christian name and had long enough been of sufficient friendship to use it, yet out of some reticence he had not. That he would use it now bespoke an intimacy Crowe hadn’t dared hope for.

“Try to ignore the ugliness, if you can. I was afraid it would repulse you,” he rasped.

“Shhh. It is not ugliness. It is you - all you’ve suffered, your pain. It’s not something to be ashamed of, it means you’ve survived in spite of everything. I would soothe every mark.”

Arthur didn’t know where it came from, to behave as he did. The actions flowed out of him like some long-buried instinctive memory. He lay Jasper back on the bed and began to press his lips softly to each and every mark on his body, stroking the curls back from his face, kissing and petting him.

Crowe moaned in distress at his touch at first, waves of shame rolling off him. This was the untutored young man whom he was supposed to guide and instruct, to lead, and Arthur’s tenderness was completely undoing him. It had been so long since anyone had cared for him. In his mind he would not register the word love; caring was more than enough. Ultimately he allowed Arthur to move him, roll and turn him to find more places to kiss, silent tears tracking down his cheeks.

When Arthur supposed he had found the last mark, both of them lay back in emotional exhaustion for some minutes before Crowe spoke.

“I had better not hear another word tonight about not being able to bring me pleasure,” he warned.

“But it’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not the same, sweet man, it’s better. So much better.” Crowe rolled over to touch his forehead to Arthur’s. “Thank you.” At a loss for words now, Arthur only reached to caress Crowe’s neck.

“I’m not finished with you. We haven’t even properly begun, have we? Are you sure you want-“

“Please, yes.”

So Jasper began again, removing Arthur’s shirt and his underclothes this time, and sliding off his own so that they were both naked. Each stared at the other’s body with varying degrees of curiosity, lust, and fear, for very different reasons.

Crowe had learned to be a changeable lover. In his youth and with sincerity he gave his all, but learned through the years that it wasn’t necessary or even wanted much of the time, with many if not most of his bed partners. Once upon a time, he’d called them lovers even when he knew they weren’t. When he stopped, he’d given up caring about all of it but the release. He’d almost given that up too, feeling that his own hand was more honest than half the men he’d known. 

After Will, for a very long time nothing mattered at all, not even eating or sleeping. Young, sharply handsome, slim and fashionable, William Kennedy had been the very last person until now who had owned his heart. He had of course like all the rest stomped on it and tore it to ribbons, and for no reason that Jasper ever discerned except that he could, and he knew it, so he did. How different Arthur was. How very different indeed. Worth taking a chance on to avoid spending the rest of his days as a lonely old bugger in truth.

Once again then, Jasper’s heart was in his lovemaking, for he intended it to be just that - lovemaking. His mouth moved over Arthur’s body similarly to the way in which Arthur had mapped him, but his intent was to arouse rather than to soothe. He kissed, nipped, sucked and licked his way down Arthur’s body as the younger man gasped, twisted and spasmed in surprise at both the pleasure and the intimacy.

At the first touch of Jasper’s lips to his member, Arthur groaned. The sensation was frightening in its intensity, but it was also exquisitely pleasurable. Lips, hands, fingers - Arthur was falling and rising as if he were riding the clouds themselves. He was capable of no thought but of Jasper, doing this marvelous thing to him..with him..for him. As his pleasure increased, everything centered on Jasper - his voice, his hands, his body, warm and damp, pressed against Arthur’s. That one person could give such pleasure to another…. It was right that Jasper’s lips and hands were what brought him to a suddenly sharp, overwhelming sensation, and that his issue should be claimed by him as well. The vision of Jasper swallowing his seed was both shocking and at the same time wonderfully reassuring. He buried his face in Jasper’s neck.

“All right, my dear?” Crowe asked against his temple.

“Yess,” he murmured, awash in the best of feelings.

“It was good for you?”

“ _You_ are good for me. Only you. No one else.” Arthur clutched Crowe to him tightly, almost desperately.

“Arthur?”

“Since I don’t understand it, I cannot expect you to,” Arthur responded helplessly.

“Try.”

Arthur licked his lips. “I know how the relations of husbands and wives are supposed to happen. I know that men may be attracted to several women or even many before they marry, and I suppose it is the same for women. Between men, I do not know by experience but I must guess it to be similar. Except that I have never had such feelings for women _or_ men. I have only had them for you,” he whispered. “I wanted to come to London with _you._ I enjoy _your_ attentions. _You_ have caused me to want what we have done tonight. I have no such feelings about other men. It’s only you. Am I..not as I should be?” he asked plaintively.

When he responded, after an agonizing moment of silence, Jasper’s voice shook, registering scarcely above a hoarse whisper.

“As far as I am concerned, you are exactly as you should be, dearest Arthur. You cannot know the effect your words have, the joy they give me.” Arthur pulled him so close he almost couldn’t draw breath, but he didn’t mind at all.

“People have their differences in bed, their tastes and preferences. I was not like you when I was young, that’s true. I enjoyed employing my manhood with many, as I chose. But the life I’ve lived has shaped me, changed me, and now I’m more like you. There is nothing wrong with you,” Jasper assured Arthur, softly stroking his side, “although you know of course that plenty of people would say there was, for several reasons. Simply do not listen to them. But tell me, and be honest - did you enjoy what we have done tonight? Would you rather not have done it?”

“It was..you were wonderful,” Arthur smiled. “Splendid. But I am frustrated that I could not do the same for you. I don’t like feeling ignorant or incompetent. I want to be able to show you how much I - “ He stopped for a moment. “How much I love you,” he breathed. “I want to be close to you in every way.”

Tears sprang into Crowe’s eyes that he hoped Arthur couldn’t see, even if he could hear them in his voice.

“My dearest,” he smiled in the darkness. “You know that your feelings are returned, don’t you? What skills you lack can be remedied, and if you truly wish it we will do so. For now, you must get some sleep. It will be daylight in a few hours. I had thought to send you home, safe to your own house, but I simply cannot. I want to feel you in my arms too badly.” In response, Arthur lay his head on Crowe’s chest and put a comfortable arm across his body.

“Good night.”

**

The next time he came up to London, Sidney was shocked by the obvious pleasure his brother and Crowe took in each other’s company - at least, the pleasure he saw between two people he knew intimately. It would not be such a happy thing if strangers saw it as well.

Arthur looked almost fit, and Crowe had put some meat on his bones. They were certainly good for each other, he thought. Although of course nothing was said, Sidney felt they must have become intimate physically as well as emotionally. There was a spark to Arthur now, a confidence that was more than social. They had a new knowledge of each other, he was sure of it.

There was a niggling worry with the knowledge, however. Sidney spoke to his brother and to Crowe separately, reminding Arthur never to show open affection for Jasper, and gently admonishing Crowe to be sure he never gave the game away in his cups. Both of them mattered to him a great deal, he said, and Crowe knew very well the care they needed to take.

Jasper gave some thought to the best way - the safest way - to give Arthur his ‘schooling.’ No matter what he decided there was risk, but in the end he felt it was better to procure someone to come to the house than to attempt a visit to a molly house, since they were so often raided. Once he had done so of course, and explained to the young man what he wanted, he had to explain things to Arthur.

“We will do what gentlemen do together. All you need do is watch, though you are of course encouraged to participate if you like.”

Arthur was not exactly happy at the arrangement, but he knew Jasper had done his best to provide what he asked for, and he had after all been the one who’d been so insistent in wanting to know how to make love to him.

The young man was known for being clever in all areas of lovemaking, so the evening was long in order to accommodate the inevitable refractory periods. Arthur had been ignorant even of that. For Jasper’s sake, he endured seeing another man make love to him, as disturbing as it was. Arthur had no concept of this being simply mechanical, unemotional relations. To him, such sharing was love and trust. Neither his mind nor his body could process the act any other way.

A few times the young man grasped Arthur’s hand and placed it over his own so he could feel the pressure and strength, and the lack of it also, when appropriate. Arthur watched as the two men sucked and stroked each other and rubbed their bodies together. He might have no skill, but he would at least know the basics.

His jealousy was near to getting the better of him when he realized that the final act was going to involve Jasper penetrating the young man. As much as he wanted to leave the room, he couldn’t. He must stay and watch, for surely this is what Jasper would want to do with him. To him.

They both spoke to him in explanation, to the point that he wanted to clap his hands over his ears, but he didn’t. He paid attention, and he listened. It appeared to him that it could not but hurt, although despite the young man’s groans they both insisted he was not in any discomfort.

When at last there was no more to show, Jasper gave the young man the agreed upon sum and a little more, and gave him still more to take a cabriolet home if he could find one at the late hour. When he came back upstairs, one look at Arthur’s face told him everything.

“I’m sorry. I should not have done this, no matter that you thought you needed it,” he apologized.

“It’s not what you did with each other. It’s that it was with him, not with me.”

“You’re jealous! Oh my dear, no, don’t be, please. Please,” Crowe begged. “It will never again be with anyone else, I promise you. It won’t. Arthur,” he coaxed, stroking his unhappy face until Arthur sighed and relaxed a little, nodding in surrender.

Crowe was exhausted, drained physically and emotionally, and Arthur saw it. Without any more fuss he climbed into the bed and held his arms up to Jasper, who was feeling wretched enough to accept his embrace gratefully.

**

Their London life went on as before, though they now spent more time at home in the evenings rather than out on the town. Arthur was a quick, able student and it wasn’t long before their private life was satisfactorily mutual, though for all the demonstration, Jasper had never asked him to take his member in his back passage. Most evenings they went home to Crowe’s house, but occasionally they would sleep at the Parker home, in adjoining rooms with carefully mussed sheets in one room and love in the other.

The only thing that marred their happiness was the devastating fire in Sanditon and its aftermath - the fear of losing the house, and Sidney’s unhappy attachment to the predatory widow Eliza Campion. They both hurt for Sidney as their own contentment increased, but the sum of money needed to release Sidney from bondage seemed insurmountable.

One evening they attended a small party given by an acquaintance, and after they’d been there an hour or so, Arthur was dismayed to sense a stiffening in Jasper, a rigidity of body that continued in his gaze and caused his mouth to thin. Arthur glanced in the direction he was facing and saw a handsome man perhaps a year or two older than himself, replete in the uniform of a Guards officer. He was laughing and drinking, surrounded by a group of younger men as handsome and dashing as he was. He seemed to sense he was being looked at, though he appeared to be the sort of person who should be used to it. His gaze turned in their direction and locked on Jasper, who let out a barely perceptible groan, and swayed a little.

“Jasper-“

“No. Say nothing. I beg you. Do not let him know we are anything other than business associates. It is vital.”

“Very well. But shall we go, then? You cannot wish to stay?”

“As much as this affects me, I cannot run away from him.”

The gentleman in question moved slowly in their direction, keeping eye contact with Crowe in a manner which alarmed Arthur.

“Jasper, my dear - what a long time it has been since I’ve seen you. I have looked for you in all the usual places from time to time but you never seem to turn up. Word had it that you’d become something of a recluse from your friends, and even developd quite a way with the ladies, eh? Curious, that.”

So this was one of the men who had broken Jasper’s heart. As strong as his feelings of love and protectiveness were, as much as he wanted nothing more than to smash his fist into the smug face of the man who was still clearly trying to wound him, Arthur knew he did not dare, for Jasper’s sake. It was a very hard thing, but he left Jasper to fend for himself, at least here in the open.

“I have changed my circle of friends, Will. No more carousing for me.”

The dandy turned his eyes on Arthur.

“And is this the reason, then? Not your usual, I must say. But then, we are all getting older, aren’t we?”

Arthur felt Jasper’s trembling - with rage as much as anything else - even though they were not standing very close.

“Indeed we are, Will. Every one of us, mind.” He met the other man’s eyes squarely. “Captain William Kennedy - Mr Arthur Parker, a business associate. I am considering investing in a scheme of his. He has been spending time recently in Town and I’m doing my best to show him round and introduce him to people.”

“Parker? Not related to that blowhard Tom Parker I hope, the one who’s lost everyone’s investments by his carelessness? And his brother Sidney, the one being led around by his nose by Eliza Campion so Tom’s debts may be paid?”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, but he kept his voice even as he replied non-committally, “I have my own small fortune and income, Captain Kennedy. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, but I’m afraid it must be short this evening as we are promised a late supper across town and must leave now if we’re not to be late. Forgive us.” He bowed to Kennedy and clapped a hand on Jasper’s shoulder. After that, their leaving was accomplished quickly, though neither of them saw the narrowed, appraising look Kennedy aimed at them as they did so.

They made it to the street, waiting for the carriage, before Jasper was sick in the bushes. Arthur was worried enough about him to forget himself for a moment and put an arm about his waist to steady him, and to help him into the vehicle. He lay back in the seat, trembling and sweating and quite pale.

“Odious man,” Arthur growled, gently pressing Jasper’s head onto his shoulder once the curtains were closed and the carriage was on its way.

“He is, but I did not always find him so.”

“I would smash his pretty face, the blackguard.”

“No, you mustn’t do anything, say anything, my dear. He knows too much. He’s dangerous. All too soon, that pretty face and figure will be no longer and those he has tortured will have their revenge. He will at last be alone, begging companionship, while you and I and his other victims cheer. And he,” Jasper smiled, “will never have such a one as you. No one will but me. The one and only Arthur Parker. You were brilliant, dearest. Truly, you saved me in there. If I had not had your support, I believe I would have been ruined.”

“I hope I am always there whenever you need me.”

“So do I.”

“When we get back, after a time you must leave. You mustn’t stay with me for awhile.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Such a man as that doesn’t frighten me,” Arthur protested.

“He should. He does have influential friends in the city, and would use them to ruin us. I fear for you, Arthur, not myself. I have accepted my lot, whatever befalls me, but you need not share it.”

“Stop. _You_ are my lot, Jasper Crowe, and that’s an end to it,” Arthur finished, snugging Crowe to him gently. Jasper sighed, but let Arthur have his way with no further discussion.

Arthur took him upstairs, undressed him and they got into bed, where Arthur’s solidness and warmth eventually lulled Jasper to sleep.

**

Crowe became jumpy after encountering Kennedy. He began to look over his shoulder, eyes scanning the streets constantly now when they went out. He even went to his solicitor alone, and did not discuss the visit with Arthur. Sidney learned what had happened and he informed Babington. They saw less of him now, since he had at last won Miss Denham’s hand, though whether he’d won her heart was less certain. Still, at their Town reception he seemed happy and she did as well, so perhaps Jamie had been right after all.

As time went on, Crowe’s edginess lessened somewhat but didn’t disappear entirely. Arthur suggested leaving town for the country - Crowe’s family seat or a short rental. He was considering it when the blow fell.

They had gone out in the evening, first to a chop house for a good meal, then a drive through Hyde Park before a visit to Brooks’s for a bit of gambling and drinking. At least, Arthur hoped it would be only a bit. Jasper was unpredictable these days, tending to revert to his old habits out of worry.

While Jasper played poker, Arthur studied the game of macao. He did not play, but by the time they were ready to leave, as an exercise of memory he thought he might do tolerably well if he were ever to play.

As they met up and started for the cloakroom a skirmish of some sort erupted between them and the exit to the cloakroom and foyer. Voices were raised, and the whistles of the Bow Street Runners were heard. The fracas spilled over into the room, and they witnessed men being roughly dragged away by the Runners. Catcalls about sodomite dogs and buggers surrounded them. If Arthur had not caught the mood and the event, Crowe knew they were lost and that it was Will Kennedy’s doing. He barely had time to hiss at Arthur “If you get the opportunity, _run_ from here as fast and far as you can” before a hand was clapped on his shoulder, and then Arthur’s, and they were as good as done. The outcries from friends loudly vouching for them fell on deaf ears, as Kennedy would have paid for it to be so.

“Say nothing. Not a word,” Crowe advised. He was smacked with a truncheon for his trouble and would have gone down to be beaten further if Arthur hadn’t lifted him up and dragged him along with him. All the men, six or seven of them, were herded into an open cart. As it pulled away and down the street, objects and refuse were thrown at them. Something hit Arthur above his left eye, and a trickle of blood started. He swiped at it angrily.

Jasper had been utterly, completely in the right about the man Kennedy and he had been a fool, endangering both of them but particularly Jasper, whom Kennedy had some sort of depraved desire to torture. Now they were trapped, and no one would know. They might not even make it out of whatever prison they were being taken to alive. If that was so, Arthur thought on a shuddering breath, at least they’d be together. He kept his head down as much as possible, and kept Jasper down as well, aiming to shield him from the abuse. He paid little heed to his fellow prisoners until a great groan went up from some of them.

“Newgate. They’re taking us to Newgate! We are dead men,” one man groaned. The name struck fear in Arthur. He knew of its general reputation of course, but Jasper had told him that it was where sodomites were often taken in the hope that they would suffer all the tortures of hell until they died - and most did die. It was customary for prisoners with family, friends and money to be able to purchase better quarters and food, but that was not afforded to sodomite dogs, regarded by the general populace as creatures from hell.

When the cart entered the gates, Arthur couldn’t help a feeling of black despair settle upon him. It sat with him when their fine clothes were taken from them, their shoe buckles, and of course any money either of them had. He forced himself to thrust it off, however, when it came time for him to look out for Jasper. He had to be strong for Jasper. He would be. There was no alternative.

They were thrust head-first into a black cell which contained two other bodies - detected when they fell over them. The others were silent, though their breathing could be heard. No telling how long they had been there, struggling to survive another day.

Jasper was limp and silent, his breathing audible. Arthur crawled with him to the wall and cradled him in his aching arms. He had supported Jasper since they’d been apprehended. If he hadn’t, Arthur felt sure he would have been clubbed or beaten to death.

“Jasper?”

“He has beaten us after all.” The voice was very weak.

“No, he hasn’t. Not yet, Jasper. Not yet. There is hope. One of our friends may have been able to get word to Sidney, or Lord B.”

“Cling to that, my dearest, if it gives you comfort. But you do not know this place.”

“You have been here before?” Arthur asked, aghast.

“Twice before. There are many ways for someone to die here, sweet Arthur. I only hope that you do not. I can struggle against it no more. This great black maw will have me.”

That Jasper had survived such hell not once but twice before was astounding to Arthur. The strength and power of will he must have had. A terrible sense of guilt washed over him.

“It’s my fault,” he gasped, helpless tears coming. “It must have been the way I touch you, look at you. You tried to tell me-“

“Ssssh, it’s not your fault, or anything either of us did. It was simply his desire to ruin me for his own amusement. There has been no evidence. It is all trumped up on his word alone, which is all that’s needed in London these days.”

“I could have done, should have done something. Insisted we leave. Something,” Arthur sniffled. Jasper put a hand on his arm.

“Perhaps you were meant to be my comfort when it is time. You have been my greatest happiness after all, my love.”

The simple words tore at Arthur. The fact that Jasper had said ‘my love,’ in belief he would not survive, nearly broke him. At the same time a rage rose within him - a black, hot, unreasoning anger, a cry of pain that he might lose the one person who had made his sad life worth living because of a whim of nature that neither of them had ever sought. They might be guilty, but they had committed no crime at the place or time of their arrest, there was no evidence, and the thought that this could happen to anyone in England at the mere whim of another infuriated him. He would fight as long as he had the strength.

Arthur lost all sense of day or night, or what day it was, after several days. The food was execrable, barely enough to keep a rat alive, and lord knew there were plenty of those. He gave most of his food to Jasper, whom he had to coax ever more strongly to eat or drink. At first Jasper was crazy for water, now he scarcely responded for that or anything else. His greatest fear was that as he became weaker he would no longer be able to protect Jasper, to chide him to go on living. He listened obsessively in fear that he would at some point no longer hear him draw a tortured, wheezing breath.

The cold damp had sunk into his bones. He was numb with it. He couldn’t imagine how cold Jasper must be. All he could do was wrap his arms about him and hold him close enough to feel his heartbeat and see the rise and fall of his chest.

After Jasper had refused food again, he reached a hand out to Arthur’s face, caressing it.

“I am not afraid, my sweet Arthur, but I fear for you. This should not be your end.”

“It will not be your end,” Arthur rasped.

“Oh, my dear.” Jasper then went silent, and his arm dropped against Arthur’s chest.

He’d fought as hard as he could, with everything in him, but he was too cold, and too weak. Jasper was right. But by God, they were together. That was Arthur’s comfort before he descended into the dark.

**

A blinding light shone in his eyes, and the door to the cell swung open on its great rusty hinges. His heart beat out of his chest in fear that whoever it was would separate him from Jasper. He cried out in protest.

“Sweet Jesus, Sidney! I can’t bear to see them!”

“We must just get them out of here _now,_ Jamie, before someone changes their mind. Home and and a doctor. Quickly!”

Sidney was of a better size to deal with Crowe, so Babington looked after Arthur. Crowe was unconscious and Arthur barely conscious, in and out of reason. He never remembered more than flashes; he thought he was dreaming, to see his brother’s face, and Jamie. There was fresh air, and once again brilliant, blinding sunlight warming his face. He cried out for Jasper in fear, and someone brought his hand to touch skin still warm with life.

“He is with us, and he lives, brother. There is no more to fear.” After that, he let go completely.

**

“Arthur. Arthur, come back now.” The voice was gentle, but insistent. He couldn’t resist its pull. He opened his eyes. Sidney sat close to him, holding his hand. “You are not to exert yourself, try to speak, or worry. Can you understand me?” Sidney asked softly. Arthur frowned with effort, but nodded.

“You are home. Jasper is safe here with us, in his own room next door. You will see him, but both of you are ill and injured and need to sleep and heal a little before you are reunited. It’s for your own good Arthur, and even more for his. He will not come back to health as quickly as you. He will be all right, I promise you, but it will take time. Food and sleep, and laudanum for a few days. Do you understand?”

Arthur nodded slowly, trying to take it all in, trying to believe it was real.

“All right then. Time to eat a little.” Too weak to protest or care, he allowed Sidney to feed him a rich hot soup that warmed his insides. He drank a frothy posset laced with eggs, wine and cream, lightly spiced, after which he could hold no more. He shifted in the bed, and let out a surprised cry of pain. His left arm and shoulder were painful and wrapped tightly.

“What happened to my arm?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No. There is more and more I cannot remember,” Arthur fretted.

“Ah, none of that,” Sidney cautioned gently. “It doesn’t matter now. It appears to be an injury of defence. You were warding off a blow, I expect. I’d wager it was Jasper you were shielding. There is a deep bruise, and a middling cut. The wound looks clean and it should heal, the doctor says.”

“I don’t remember. I only remember being desperate to keep him alive. I would have taken on a mob I think, if I’d had to, until I became too weak.”

Sidney looked at him quite soberly. He thought he detected moisture in Sidney’s eyes.

“Brother..I have never been so proud of anyone as I am of you. You saved his life. You are worth half a dozen of Tom.”

“Th..thank you, Sidney. That means a great deal,” Arthur whispered.

“Drink this,” Sidney directed, putting a few drops of laudanum in half a glass of water, “and get some rest. You will not be kept apart longer than necessary, I promise.” Arthur drank obediently. Sidney leaned over and kissed his brother on the forehead. “Rest easy now,” he smiled.

Crowe was a bit of a different matter. The doctor proclaimed him free of any broken bones, he had only the lump on his head where he’d been clubbed, and a bruised back where he’d been kicked. Emotionally, however, he seemed deeply wounded. Not only by his experience, but by the knowledge that his former lover had felt vindictive enough towards him that he would do such a thing for no reason, and that he surely would have died in prison, broken and abused, if it had not been for the devoted care of his friends and his lover. It hurt his soul that he was so detested for what he was. He was profoundly weary of the struggle for an ordinary life. He needed Arthur to heal what a physician could not.

After another twenty-four hours, several more nourishing meals and long, heaing sleeps, both induced and natural, Arthur was considered healthy enough to join Jasper. He hobbled slowly, supported by Sidney. Babington had propped Jasper up and sat with him. Their bond was strong, and Sidney was grateful that he could leave Crowe in Jamie’s care while he gave his attention to Arthur. He had to be grateful to the new Lady Babington as well. She had with surprising compassion freed her husband from any other obligations of home until his friend was truly mending.

Arthur slipped beneath the bedclothes and moved to cradle Jasper against his heart. A soft sound of need escaped Crowe’s lips along with a sob of relief. On their way out the door, Sidney piled more logs onto the fire and the two were finally left alone.

For some time Jasper didn’t speak, but alternately moaned and groaned and made more of the soft needy sounds, nuzzling into Arthur as hard as he could manage, in quiet joy.

“It’s all right, love. It’s all right now. Shhh, don’t fret. It’s over, and you’re safe,” Arthur assured him.

“But how have we come to be safe? What new challenge awaits us still?”

“Sidney hasn’t said yet. I imagine they might tell us tonight. He did say we have nothing to fear from the event, but I don’t know why, or how we came to be released. I am less concerned about that just now, with you alive in my arms, than I am with holding you next to me forever,” Arthur sighed, toying tenderly with Jasper’s russet curls.

“You saved my life, my dearest Arthur. My love. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. I love you, Arthur Parker. I love you more than I can properly express.” Arthur’s heart squeezed happily.

“When we are both quite well, I can think of a way you may express it,” he teased. Jasper gave a low chuckle.

“Shy no longer then.”

“No longer.”

“I’m going to remind you of that.”

**

When Sidney returned some hours later, Babington having gone home to his wife, they prevailed upon him to relate to them all that had happened. After they had supped and were again settled, he began.

Their friends had indeed contacted him. He called on Jamie, who made an educated guess as to who might have had it in for them, and they began a frantic enquiry while at the same time trying to find them, for their whereabouts was being hidden as well. This assured Jamie that Captain Kennedy was indeed the instigator as he’d suspected. He’d met the man, and from what he knew and what Jasper had told him, it seemed like the methods he would use.

“Which information to present in defense and which would be used to condemn had to be sorted and verified, then presented to someone high enough up in the government that they could countermand any previous directives - and they still weren’t sure which prison held you. It has truly been a race against time.

“Jasper, the information you left with Jamie in addition to what he discovered by greasing a few palms, and an appointment with the Prince Regent’s private secretary secured your release. You were suddenly able to be found when certain conspirators were in fear of very serious charges. We were so afraid we’d be too late. Thank God we were not.”

“What of Will?” Jasper asked.

“He is charged with conspiracy, willful perjury, and sodomy. He awaits trial and is kept on the Retribution. If found guilty, he will be executed or transported to the Australian penal colony aboard the Retribution, depending on how many counts of sodomy he’s convicted of, I’d warrant. There is little doubt he will be convicted of the other charges. He will never again be free in England, that’s certain.”

Jasper groaned.

“Surely you can’t be sorry for it? He deserves anything he gets, the bastard,” Sidney frowned.

“Sorry that he will be punished, no. But the punishment which will be meted out for his ‘sin’ will be worse than for any of the other charges, and it might have been our punishment, or that of any of our friends some day. I would be content at punishment, but his fate I cannot feel happy about,” Crowe sighed.

“I can’t truly understand from your perspective, I admit, but what’s done is done. You would not speak on his behalf?” Sidney asked, aghast at the thought.

“No, I would not. But I can still pity him.

“Because you are the better man, my friend.”

**

As they healed together, quite happily isolated in the Parker townhouse, Arthur found himself thinking of two things - Sidney’s upcoming nuptials with Eliza Campion despite his love for Charlotte Heywood, and what he and Jasper were going to do next.

Sidney had advised, and Jasper agreed in conversation, that they should not stay in Town for awhile - several months in fact, until all manner of gossip and public scrutiny would have died down. But where to go? Arthur did not want to return to Sanditon and the watchful, alternately suffocating or irritating presence of his family. If he never saw his family again save for Sidney and Mary, he could be a happy man. Crowe might not want to take up residence at the family home - too many unhappy memories, and perhaps its own gossip. They needed to speak about it.

Regarding the other, Arthur dared a few hours out at Brooks’s one day. The following day he begged leave of Jasper to travel to Brighton on business and stay overnight, returning late the next day. 

He set off in a state of nerves which he couldn’t allow Jasper to see. Having arranged his room previously, when he arrived he went directly to the casino and sat at one of the macao tables. He began slowly, testing his theory and his luck, working on his memorization. He won. Tamping down his excitement he continued to play, and win. Soon word got around that there was a fellow who had won tens of thousands of pounds at macao, and a crowd gathered round the table. Arthur shut everything out of his head except the game, alert to any signs of changes in his luck - for luck was still involved - or cheating by the House. He couldn’t believe it. The winning continued, even as he drew close to his goal. Finally, even though no downturn had come he knew there was no such thing as luck and skill going on forever, and he walked away from the table £84,000 richer. 

He was not the fool some would take him for. He would have a draft made out to his bank in London, and return for it just as he departed the following morning to minimize the chance of robbery of such a sizable sum. How he wished he could tell Jasper right at that moment, and how he longed to see Sidney’s face. Instead he went to his room at the hotel and was able to sleep at least a part of the night, though he was too full of nervous excitement to sleep well.

The next morning he was there as the casino offices opened but most people were still abed, and secured the draft. He also paid the outrageous insurance fee in the event he was robbed in spite of his precautions. He could afford to be safe at this point.

The journey back to London was, after all that, an anticlimax. There were no highwaymen to be seen. He resented the stops to rest or change horses, his excitement building with every passing mile. He arrived home about an hour before dinner time, and bounded up the stairs to see Jasper. He couldn’t believe his luck that Sidney was there, keeping Jasper company, and forbade him to leave.

“All right, my devious love, what have you done? I know you have accomplished something by your step and the shine in your eyes. Tell us at once,” Jasper demanded, being enveloped in a loving hug and giving one in return.

“Shall I, then?” Arthur grinned. “All right.” He pulled the folded bank draft out of his pocket and gave it to Sidney, whose eyes grew very large.

“What..dear God, what did you do, Arthur, to acquire this?” He showed the draft to Jasper, who nearly choked on his tea.

“I gambled.”

Sidney’s jaw dropped.

“ _You_ gambled?” He gasped.

“Indeed, I did.”

Sidney threw back his head and roared with laughter - genuine, mirth-filled laughter. He laughed a very long time, loudly, until the laughter turned to harsh, gasping sobs he could not stop, all the emotion he had not dared to show pouring out of him at once. As his strength left him, his head came to rest in Arthur’s lap, with Arthur stroking his hair.

“It’s all right now, brother. You will not be required to throw your life away on that shrew Mrs Eliza. Go after Miss Heywood, Sidney. As soon as possible. It will no doubt be a bit complicated, but that has never stopped you before, eh?”

“Arthur. Arthur,” Sidney murmured. “I cannot-“

“The conditions are as follows - you, or I, or Jasper or Babington, or all of us, or an advisor of our choosing, will handle all the money. Tom will not. Under any circumstances. Our properties will be secured first of all, and are never to be used as collateral again, including Trafalgar House if Tom wants to continue living there. Mary and the children must have a home, by God. After all is secured, the rest of the money will pay the construction debts. Whatever grand plans Tom may have for ‘his’ town will simply have to fit the remaining monies and not a penny more unless we all agree. At the least, until we begin seeing return of investment. He can shout up the town as much as he pleases, but he will never receive anything more from it in future that is not based on his personal investment of actual monies. And he will not promise things on speculation.”

“Agreed, by God,” Sidney got out. He’d had no idea that Arthur had clearly been very angry at Tom’s behaviour for a long time. This was such a different man than the one who’d left Sanditon nine months ago for London in the company of his friend Crowe.

After Sidney had gone and they had eaten, Arthur brought up the question of leaving Town for awhile.

“In truth, I don’t think I will miss it so very much, at least for awhile. It’s a good place in which to hide from oneself, it’s true, but I’m tired of hiding. It’s hard work. And I no longer have any reason to. I’m happy in my life,” Crowe declared.

“So am I.” Arthur kissed him on the cheek. “Happy to be in your life, and my own.”

“Would you wish to go to your own country house?”

“Hmm. My father’s house, and my brother’s. I don’t think so. Perhaps one day, when I have the strength to refurbish it and model it more to suit me. But not now.”

“I do not want to go to Sanditon.”

Jasper laughed. “I suspected as much. I can’t say that I blame you, especially at present.”

“Where would you choose to go?” Arthur asked.

“Jamie mentioned the other day that there’s a good-looking, middling sized manor to let some five or so miles from his estate that he thought we might like. It’s two days’ journey from here. Not so very far that Sidney couldn’t come to visit, and I suspect he and Mrs Parker-to-be might want to spend a bit more time in London and elsewhere than in Sanditon for similar reasons to ours. Mary and the children could come in the summer. Tom would undoubtedly be too busy. Your sisters would be welcome too of course.”

“But would fancy themselves too ill to brave the journey. Perfect,” Arthur chuckled. “I like it. Shall we send word we’d like to come look at it, or shall we trust Jamie and just take it?”

“I would trust Jamie with anything. And I’m ready to start anew somewhere.”

“The Babingtons as near neighbors it is then,” Arthur agreed. “Let us wait long enough to hear from Sidney if there is to be a wedding, and after that, we shall be off on new adventures.”

**

There was indeed a wedding in Sanditon. Mr Sidney Parker and Miss Charlotte Heywood were joined in matrimony on a fine warm Spring day. A good time was had by all. The newlyweds would be off to a honeymoon in Scotland and then take up residence in London. Shortly afterward, word had come that Esther was with child. Jamie was over the moon, and his friends were delighted for him.

Back in Town, Arthur and Jasper were overseeing what of their clothing and small furnishings they would take with them to the country house. Jasper had slowly regained his strength and was now nearly as fit as he had been on his post-India return to England. He was still thinner than Arthur liked, but he would do, he was told. He adored Arthur’s newfound bossiness.

They were to leave in the morning, sleeping one last time in Jasper’s room. He was letting it be known in various ways that he wanted a bit of a send-off from their old love nest. He had even had a bottle of champagne brought up. Arthur was more than willing, but he could not have predicted Jasper’s request.

“My dear,” he asked earnestly, “I want you to fuck me. Will you?”

Arthur sat down on the bed abruptly in shock.

“You want.. _me_ to.. _you_?”

“Yes, love.”

“But I thought..when I observed, you were the one - “

“Ah. You thought I was meant to fuck you. No. Not that I wouldn’t if you wanted me to, of course, but I just assumed that it wouldn’t be something you’d want, at least for some time.”

“But you do? You actually want me to -“

“Yes, Arthur, I do. Very much. Please.”

“You..like it?”

“Yes. But only with someone I trust completely. You can understand that, can’t you?” Arthur couldn’t bear his voice turning so wistful. “You said you were no longer shy. Didn’t you? I thought..Well, never mind.”

Jasper never wanted anything of him. Never asked him for anything.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Arthur Parker, if you could keep us alive in Newgate prison, you can accomplish a simple fuck.” Jasper chuckled at the absurdity, and suddenly Arthur laughed too. The tension had gone.

Used to being passive because he had been so all his life of necessity, Arthur was slow to lead yet moved by his lover’s responses to his actions, urging him to take charge not so much by words but by his sighs, gasps and moans. He would do anything for him, so of course he would do this.

The expression on Jasper’s face as he was entered transfixed Arthur. It made him feel very powerful, and at the same time it humbled him and made him want to bring Jasper whatever he needed, at the very moment of his need. Each cry, each sound of pleasure or frank lust fueled Arthur’s thrusts. 

“All the way, my darling. I want to feel you deep inside me.” Arthur obeyed, enchanted to see his lover’s face and feel his body responding. That he could bring Jasper the pleasure he’d been without for most of his life acted as a powerful aphrodiasiac as well as filling him with tenderness.

“It gives me..ah!..a part of you, my love, inside me. Each..stroke is a..claiming, is it not? And you will leave..a part of yourself..in me, so nothing can truly part us, ever. Oh fu..CK.”

Jasper’s words and his wails, and the hungry body beneath him surrounded Arthur, driving him to a forceful completion. Jasper gave a triumphant growl at Arthur’s release before he stroked himself to his own, which was very soon afterwards. He whimpered regretfully as Arthur withdrew from him, yet sighed in satisfaction when Arthur licked the seed from his softening cock and his belly.

Jasper lifted his arms, groaning with contentment as Arthur folded him into a firm embrace. It was strange how, considering he was surely the taller of them, Jasper always managed to somehow shrink himself to fit perfectly and snuggly in his arms, always at his most relaxed and loving then. Tonight he simply melted into him, limp and warm and precious. Arthur slowly combed his fingers through his love’s damp curls, soothing, dropping fairy kisses on his brow, eyelids and nose. They lay close and silent for a long time, relaxing into each other’s breathing, perfectly and utterly content.

Arthur looked into Jasper’s vivid blue eyes, now soft with satiety and safety.

“I understand so much that I haven’t, before. I will be here for you. Doubt nothing about how I will love you and how much. Anything. Anything, sweetheart,” he cried.

“I wondered if you would ever really take possession of me, and of yourself as well. I was content before, Arthur. You made me happy before. It was pleasurable being your mentor in love, to be sure. But now - my God, I never thought anyone would want me so. My love. My very love,” Jasper whispered, pressing his face into Arthur’s chest.

They were, at last, partners in every sense. The last little hurdle, the last niggling doubt he’d had about his manhood and his worth, had gone. It wasn’t the act itself - both he and Jasper knew that. It was meeting someone else’s needs, wanting to fulfill them, and being willing to do anything for them even if you had doubts. It was faith and trust. It was expressing yourself freely. But most of all it was confidence in yourself, in your abilities and decisions. You weren’t a real partner until you had that.

“Champagne?” Jasper eventually murmured.

“If I might spill it, and lick it off you.”

“Oooh, Arthur Parker, where _have_ you been keeping company? Do spill it there..and there. And perhaps there.”

“We shall never be away from here in time tomorrow.”

“Do you mind that?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I like the way your mind works.”

“The point is to keep you from thinking.”

“Mmmmm.”

The next morning, departure was indeed delayed. It was a joint decision.

**Author's Note:**

> Most historical details verified. Some inconsequentials are artistic license.


End file.
